​It took me some time, but I finished a new colored pencil drawing. This one is of sunflowers that I saw on our walks with our dog Gia around the neighborhood. They were already wilting when I started, and their big black faces reminded me of Vincent Van Gogh, and Egon Schiele, and how they made sunflowers their symbols of joy and transcendence and of loss and despair.

​My husband and I have had a hard month, including a weekend where we both came down with the stomach flu, myself first, then Ryan next before I was even recovered. While he was in bed I made a few sketches of him, including this one. There is nothing more intimate than being simultaneously ill.